Can I Have A Napkin? lyrics - Brotha Lynch Hung

Can I have a napkin?

I eat his insides out nobody knew what happened

I ran down the avenue, all red like Mack 10

Jailhouse shank tickle nigga he died laughing

Blue dickies bloodied up always keep 'em sagging

Head trauma, you couldn't even fix it up with aspirin

As if

Niggas wanna eat but I eat ask 'em

Nigga you wanna certified dope record cash 'em

That's why I'm strange on that ass I gotta passion

Only reason I spit like this nigga I drink acid

Modern-day Ca$his Roy Jones Mayweather

You couldn't tell me nothing 'bout sick nigga we stay together

Sleep in the same bed running through the same bread

Still spitting fire if you know the rap games dead grrr

I eat spaghetti intestines so I don't give a fuck about your funny ass tactics

And I don't wanna run up in your stomach

Pepto

All you other horrorcore rappers

Klepto

Run up in 'em

Cut 'em in the motherfucking neck though

No more rapping no need to use the techno

My rhymes like lead bullets leaving your set wet though

I challenge you motherfuckers I'm a broke nigga so let's go

Tech N9ne Sacramento cannibal I eat

Breath stink like human meat got pieces in my teeth

Can I get a toothpick?

Overdose on 24 pills that way you guilty motherfuckers know what the truth is

Niggas think they know me they're calling me a "OG"

Fuck all your sympathy nigga you can die slowly

Poisonous get your boys in this I take 'em by the dozen

Nigga I get devious that was my little cousin

Nigga I'm just sick in the head you thought I wasn't?

I'll make a nigga drink my piss guzzle n love it!

I might just eat your brains to see what's in your soul

I'm high drunk wet angry

They're gon' have to capture me I'm cooking 'em up in a factory

Nigga you're dead now

Nigga you're dead now

Can I have a napkin? Blood on my hands last night guess what happened

I beat the murder like Casey Anthony, saw grass cuttin' all ass and that's the meat

And if I ever show up at you church, dick out, ready to flirt, kicked out

I will see dead people in the church, this house

Now known as the murder scene, lyrical leader of the rest you you heard of me

I'll put your brains in a basket and take 'em to your grandma house in a cup of acid

He don't have to get bloody buddy, bitch drink this acid

I'm goin' to the car and coming back with a black plastic

As if horrorcore rappers want it with me

I've been eatin' human meat since you been sucking mama's titty

Speakin' of, seven help me rip these bitches speakers up

You're invited to my mind come on we can grub

I might just eat your brains to see what's in your soul

I'm high drunk wet angry

They're gon' have to capture me I'm cooking 'em up in a factory

Nigga you're dead now

Nigga you're dead now

Excuse me, can I have a napkin?

I'm drippin' like a vampire when he ain't rappin'

Nigga you a damn liar I'mma get to snappin'

They swell, cranium like a eggshell craccin'

Hey well that's how it goes all the time

You know Spider-Man he gotta put it in a rhyme

I eat rappers up, I admit, I eat swine

With a little squeeze from the lemon and lime

Me I hate women all the time (I really mean) exes

Dream about

Leaving 'em in the back of the Lexus

Cut throat legs spreaded open like Texas

Razor blade pussy lips nigga she died gasping

Murder without a motive it's ya boy I gotta passion

And I be puffin on that kush like Ashton, Sebastion

You don't wanna fuck around gattin

Music either I gotta couple of them fat ones